Snippets of the mind by Gagansvaid

No one understands, That life has to stand. That, to work is one's dream, Towards one's goals, a beam. No one understands! Alas, what can be done? Than listening to them, To whom, we have a lot to thank; Oh, do they realize, mind that bangs? When, they don't understand. Reverence it is that resonates, Heart is that really deviates; Tensions accustom, but in name, Of love, every time, it has to trap; Mind, of the problems, Problems that elapse their fur, Onto the soul that sits and watches, As events brim, and circumscribe. What to say, what to complain; When one's body is not in good shape, Mind isn't equated in righteous stance, To say anything in contrary is vain. Still, one has to listen and comprehend, To keep going well in shape, rid of any dent. Really, no one understands.

The heart of my love, Her embers of thoughtfulness, Her dreams of love, Combine to form, every essence. Essence that is light, That is the greatest gem, Folded in the hands of grief of pain and likewise every plight. Love, as a residual of being honest, Satisfied. Love, as a meaning that offers enough of calm and respite. Love, that is a blessing; in every texture, and sight. Love, that is to acknowledge, the air so very bright. In equal compositions, of daylight and the starlight, In varied composure's and connotations, delight. There is an upheaval of the dreams that guide, To capture, to content and keep in eye, the strides. For what blossoms in love, and what compromises is love, What agonizes is love, what despises is love. Volumes of clarity, volumes of perturbed expressions, Linger around- the hearts unknown, In the land of love, in the land that becomes of stone.

The night, the marriage night; That glitters gold, and diamonds, As women adore in their neck pieces, So does the night itself guide. Meet up of the friends-- distant and old, Reminiscing their times, of seasons, hot and cold. A table where these friends sit, Rendezvous and the pleasures, lit. There many boys, girls; youngsters walk around, These ideas of bonhomie, all surround. They say, that the stars are blue tonight, That long lost pals, are in the essence to interact. Walks by, stops by, this warrior in comfort, Who had earlier been ill composed, Of the thoughts, that his time was going, His tasks unaccomplished went soaring. No longer, but no longer for now, Does he say or feel any low, For he feels along, their dreams of snow. Sits relaxed legged-cross, It was such an awakened blow; Of the winds of their happiness, that pass, That flow. Yes--he thought of his friends, And his time was nourished, At the very thought. It was a whisper, of the heaven

Many a times, in our lives we meet those people who remain with us for a longer period of time. They live with us through the times, they understand us as individuals and yet, they get far as it happens with people. We have our own priorities to fill in, and yet; we talk though little as distance counts or maybe if a tiff becomes between the people(well, not that surprising in today's times).  It's not that easy to believe in someone or have values as trust in people. Trust is a very strong word and shouldn't be meant for people- who are newer to our lives. For them, neither should we leave on others, nor should we give more importance to them, than the importance we give to ourselves. The best thing to do to those people who either break our trust or hurt us is to let go of such people. Forgive them and there are surely many many more things to do.  Learning from life, learning from experiences on meeting with people; how everything around us works like. This is how w

In the many segments, In the skies; I liven across as a secret spy. There are my heartland monuments, Across this wider sky. My love sits in the paradise, The openness of the dreams so high. I wish if my love that breathens in my heart, Remains happy and in peace of a being, glorify. For our distance that appraises was needful, That no respite was actually in the sight of us being together. That it was an ending note, And yes; it was all that does sit in my heart to atone. I'm lonely, yet I'm wishful; that her loneliness, Gets answers and her newly found love. For she needs someone as her, who could control, heal her. She deserves a lot better man, a man of a lovely curl; Softness and purity of being, in all tones of kindness where hurl, I wish to see all that love for her.

Teary eyed blossoms my heart, Serenity in it's values rub, Clashing thoughts end, as does the hubbub, Of the streets and pavements. As cluster, the divine expressions, Of my aching heart; Hence, revealing my understandings of life, To reach her, in immense glory, While making sense of what I keep within me. I reveal to her, what I feel inside my speechless words. I know she will listen to me, For, now I form her life's essential part,  as she forms me, every night and day.

What is it that disturbs or disgraces. What is it, that makes things hazes. There is life, are many phases, Journey in itself stages, Also, occurs a downfall, as much as an upswing claps. You are a comrade, you're a loner, your life of silent walks, and cynosure; when you're a centre, people with you talk, and leisure. You learn to interact, Being yourself in the track; Many a times, moments splash, when good times signal in a flash. Bad ones along come as an experience, You wish to put them away, You have no variance; The same difficulty sprouts and masks. You wait, wait as a lonely star; Until you fall, Or the sheen you encompass, Your journey, purely yours; You have to deal with the fall, To let it simplify, the miffled coils; To convert the sentiments of disarray, To complete set of magical rays; That lead you, your way; in happiness, so grave.

You saved me dear friend, Your tender heart was my saviour. When the person in my beloved, Had left me at pain, you stood there. You felt, what my heart endeared, You stood by my side, that day; there. I hadn't given you, a little, Of what my time you deserved dear friend, You still kept my side, to tell me; that in this world, for me someone cared. That I wasn't alone, in my narrative; You had your footsteps there, adhered. When the waterfall of tears was enormous, Your gentle care, gave me that shoulder, to let myself at ease; when all I wondered- disappeared in a glare. Today, I know not how to thank you, You did so much for me, and I repeated the same, Not giving you my time again, Still, I can count on you, in every countless hue. For me, to leave your side has been my weakness, for a friend in you, I have felt in my deepness, Up in the cre

When the dreams set sailing, Above the grass fields and metro railings, I do ponder about my thoughtful lines, About what is mine and what isn't mine! Oh thine goodness, Thine spiritual connection does commute, In-touching my heart's essence, In all bravado and repute. I meet them, their hearts are up for grabs, Their thoughtful lineage that subtends, To reach me the strength, to my dreamlands; I know, my journey is in its motion; However deplete it may sound to the outside world, It's about the within me that speaks, And listens along with them, Their hearts, their dreamlands.

"Many people stood in line, His love stood in a different line. For him, it was more important, To tell her, that for him it was important. By being good to them, He could be good to himself; And to her, it was all she dreamt. His goodness, she had told him; Was what she thought was the best for her,  as well as it was for him. She had to understand it then, That he had to be answerable; To his loved ones too, than; Only one person who's she,  the most valuable! Only if she could say, You have to live as much as me; Up above the stars that shine, In within the heart, dreams that sublime. That she would wait, until his return be, Now, be it to climb the mountains,  or swim the whole sea. She would be there, with him; Presence was what was to be felt, between; Them, everywhere; the roads they went, Where the roads bent."

Sleepy eyes, tired of a long day at work, Sleepy eyes, in lookout for some more sleep. Sleepy eyes, wishing to feel the happiness in a nap, Sleepy eyes, that sense the aura of the swings. More pleasure, utmost love; More time to keep eyes close, More time to dream the unseen, More time, to let memories preen. All in all, the the day nestles purity, All in all, the trees ask for clarity. When the world seems beautiful, When the air is soothing in dual. Only when the sleep is complete, Can yet again, life be a magical treat. The rest, the patience; the manifesting sight; when the winds steer, and the imagination guides. Touching us, matching our breath in equivocal, the spirits that compose and engross in portrayal. Such a maniac for love, a simple man can be; that along the morning walks, the journeys, can a friend be in the form of  a tree, or can friend be as honourable as the green grass, letting people to walk and sit while ackno

Silence in itself had its effect-so majestic! Every minute that passed, witnessed a cross thought. Every second that rubbed, sent signals of positivity. That life could definitely make the past experiences, speak for themselves and hence balance the seen. That my life too had its meaning, fumbled from outside, but really off-bright and jovially, it being my very own. That I could also say with my normal voice to the world outside, that hey, you; hey, my friends listen to me; for I make sense to myself. That, I am someone, I have my own identity, I sayest each day; this to myself, splendidly accorded with the transparency of my witnessed dreams. That I can flawlessly dance and sing, when no one points at me for my lesser achievements, neither do I expect them to clap their hands together for me. For whatever I do, that's solely the reason of my doing, being me. Some people come to us as life, Some people come to us, as a meaning to life. They spend their precious

Call me not in evil numbers, For, then my heart stumbles. Well, no; I am not that one, Ever plain and bright; the sun; I am a passerby, yet I am someone, For when the sky shields, entirely blue, The colour of its resonance beau, The brightness comes to its hue, As enlightens the sky, with sun in view. They say a many days, that sun is the sole hero; the energy that transmits across the lands in lore, Comes from this magicians' bow; Uplift, the shoulders; held high even in trough. Come across many seasons, when the sun; has to stay farther from us, but still it buns, its responsibilities to its land, he runs. Then, how can he go away completely, when to him his daughter and son are ocean and sea. A blanket, he pours; rain that falls, To enhance the nature emit his calls. Who says, sun is bad; when everyone has a blow, that time, when one has to stay at a land far off? Love remains there, its blessing; a lovely portrayal, Those who

It had been awhile that they had settled themselves in the metro coach. Finding a seat for themselves. Now the time being seven thirty. School going boys and girls were visible and so were the office goers, who presumably had their offices at far off places. So, they had to leave early in comparison to the others, who lived near to their offices. The office hours being the traditional nine to five! Raghubir and Ratan were art connoisseures , who had started to understand each-other's point of view. Gentle smiles they kept lightened on their faces, as their talks stretched further on. Ratan hadn't had good sleep the night before, so he looked a little clumsy that day. On the other hand, Raghubir; the writer guy, sensed happiness in full glow; with a beautiful sunrise, steading hopes and dreams in everyone. For, Raghubir was a guy, who slept at a definite time and woke up at the right time, so following his routine splendidly. Only to sense peace, with the rhythm

When the tide comes to greet us, We accept it in affirmative. For, we are wilful to let it come to us, To show us how life sails in each directive. Directive of life, in peace and harmony; When alters its sheen to rough patches, cornering the vibes of amiable symphony; there is left to the heart, a push back, a scratch. A wisdom personified personality, Stands behind all these times; as a back up, Surprised by life, its incarnations; In lot many murmurs, definite dreams, thoughts; there's a lot assumed and likewise crapped, about life and living through a different strata every time. Yet the heart mingles, with happiness and solace. The times, that cheer and outplace. There is a lot left to be called yours and to embrace. In every patch, and your every trace. Every day passes with agony or pain, Yet all efforts and dreams aren't the same. Merrier times, pass their splendour, in the game. Oh, difficult times, only appeared to be a gain.

Time that moved forth. Rhythm when lost it's bow. A lot was thought and dreamt, It did really sight, an advent. Lost was lost, the greatest of the volumes to be, Someone's hand, a wish an emotion; yet no feelings could erase, when occurred, so much so, a rain, a thunder, a lightening. Many a times, a many reasons, yet the smile was as ornamental, as the ripened fruits in the summers, every feeling was justifiable then. On guard were signalled, the soldiers that day- on war, he sight the way, that moment, that day. Only he had to go to fight for his first love, his Nation that asked him to run and dove; upon the burning fire, that was to find it's way, back to normality, in the life and living of others. Hence, he had quite forgot that girl to whom, he had promised his love, that he was to return. For a many reasons, he had to go; he had to hide himself. In the clouds, in the rains and the dreams; when he wou

Raghubir and Ratan met after few days again, waiting at the metro station for their trains. Raghubir waved to Ratan and they got along yet again. Quite a surprise it was for the two of them to catch each other's sight. The two classmates who hadn't met all the way long for many years, were meeting for the second time in a week. Ratan had with him a novel in hand, that he had been reading; and Raghubir had a laptop bag hung round his shoulder. Ratan was wearing a shirt with jeans whereas Raghubir wore a kurta-pajama. On finding his attire very funny, with a laptop bag round his shoulder, the sight of Raghubir could only get laughter and ceaseless laughter from Ratan's side. That was something of a game now. Raghubir found it an offence yet again and yielded in his reply to Ratan; “Don't you know anything else than mocking at people? What's your problem?? Huh!” “Hey, no; I haven't seen anyone like this before. See, I'm sorry; but I re

In the wake of my silence, I look at you for the peace that I seek. Not that the days back, were any thrashing, Just that I want to forget them now. With that, tie to a new journey, The journey I have been leading named life. Your presence filled my past days, Now, it feels as if we are distant, far away. From that bondage that was termed as love, Now, I feel if a term is beyond love, or is this what I feel called love. To acquire someone, was that love? To know the person feels the same for you, Is the best feeling? No, there can't be any specification. For no one who comes does know, for what might just happen, this journey is in itself a lamp, the glitter of which that you can see. When eyes open wide, on the possibilities of events that do churn. Well, surprises were a part of this journey, you call your own. To see her whistle to me, that it was infatuation from her side to me, that she had to leave me here in the midway, of our

Ratan and Raghubir were classmates in their junior school. One day they met in a train after a very long time and after they exchanged greetings, they talked about school. Then, they started talking of other things. Things about life, fast life, slow life; boredom, success and failures. Not to forget, the instant thoughts that came to their minds. Quite flawlessly they could interpret their thoughts. Daresay! Ratan : Raghubir, I am of the view that life is all as it comes- day after day, minute after minute, it's such a combination of specific events which define what a path our life steads upon. Raghubir : Yeah, quite right you are Ratan. Your philosophy suits well, it stands so appropriate mate! I would add on to it, that one should be positive enough in living life and one shouldn't always hold on to the doors, but let things happen to them too. If your instincts want you to experience what earlier you didn't think was right, don't hold back now. Ma

Personal it is, yet there is love for the curriculum that was once in our course. Yes, it brought a smile to my face, whenever I thought about the course. When I was not getting to study only a specialized course but along with it, I was getting a chance to study those subjects which would directly or indirectly push my creative tendencies. How long and how far can you go in this real world with only knowledge of one subject? Well, yes; only studying literature, could you think about making things better for the farmers who were being cheated upon by the ruthless landlords? When I thought of casting my support for FYUP, I had thought of those various classes by my Hindi teacher, Mr.Upendran; who made me think beyond those bars, which I wouldn't have crossed otherwise studying English. Our course, where we were studying language, of the Shakespearean times and Renaissance. I was glad, as I had come to study that. But, studying my course only gave me an i

mind is at unrest, something or the other needs to be done to revive its potential. mind is really annoying me these days. it has never before happened to me or with me. it's disturbing moreover. reality of mine, bites me over and over again. few mistakes which others make, we are to feel for their consequences as well. that now they are to decide for us, just whatever they feel is right. why? why should i always bow to their demands. just why? that i have to shape my identity because of them. why am i even answerable to them?

many a times, in dreams and similar lines in my days and life, enormous of questions roll and blend their tunes. in general i see, how imaginative is my life; that wherever i go, i witness places and days under the starlight; at a point i reach right back there, at a time in my blossoming life. colours, paints and gestures that i enjoyed, yes that i had cherished. i form my dreams and those formed dreams get back to me, once again. this is a life story of mine, that i live and pack with myself to witness once again in the the already written sands.

Artifacts and dearest stars, that reverberate and slide along the winds, and the tides. Thou keepest no grudges or the bars, So no one stands to break you and your lights. Shining, bright renders your calm enough respite, that the blankness in anyone's mood dances in an instant, with a gentle slide of your being alive. Oh, thy sight I seest, it feels so endear and free within alike a free flying kite.

Idealize, yet realize; My dream I am wishful to anyway picturize. To be able to look back at the junction of life, Apparelled with softness of a touch, A cotton ball to rub to the many sides of life. To be able to say in my look back that this was my life, this was one of my many, a Surprise! Call me lover, Oh dearest charm; My interest for your goodness shall forever glitter warmth. Up above, the dreams that soar; somewhere in the middle passages of my walk would I accompany a realization, that the time spent with you was, the greatest touch of appreciation that belongs. Sans you, I couldn't have been to this passage, Says my heart and I stay glued, Thanking above the destiny of my stars, to have met you!

Eyes blink, The stars among the streams. The mighty illumination, Empowers and rings, The chords within of appreciation. Winter strikes, Murmurs the child on bed, To not skid away the blankets, As the morning strikes, School bells ring for, Dreams have to prolong. Security men, burn wood; To gain heat, to warm themselves, Their bodies, to replace the cold. Weather plays with the winds, the murmurs of the morning birds chirping, While the morning walkers cling to their ongoing schedule, ever responsively. Call it pleasure, call it pain; but the night shelters, offer no gain. For the drunkards lay on the roadsides, While the homeless children sleep closer and closer to each other, to let heat develop; that's in the lacking for the atmosphere to be.

Dreams cradle, And the hard time flies; A leaflet of hope, sublimes. Into the beauty of her heart, His own creation, his love; That he did impart. Over and over, with the rains And the trees, he had hopes; He thought of his wings, To be strong amongst the various winks. People sighed, Made him a laughing stock; He was hurt, broken and fallen apart, Oh well, yeah; he still had something called hopes. Nothing in hand, no one to see; Alone, he bent; to the stars, he sought; To the waters, caressing his every wish, He walked that road, to the monumental stone, He sat besides it; how strong the stone was. He got up and started yet another walk, And still he had no food to eat, no one to accompany,  than his hopes; the trees, and the forever stretching roads.

When I looked once back on the roads that I had walked, I got very happy, Well I had there only belonged. When no one in people was to forever remain, Only the ones to not leave were these roads. Family that stood for me forever, Knew it how I, from my intense be. Never did a material thing ever allure me, than the sight of these roads to me.

Slumber kicked and a new day appeared. Out of the meadows, a ray steered. I was a lonely brute in the alley but when the taste of art reckoned, I craved for it with an affectionate bond. I could sense within me the transcription of determination and power, reaching out to my heart. Every dream resounded strength along my walk. This is the song, I sing for you my girl, for you do I create the magic and art in my attire of songs.. I am far from you, still I can feel you around me..you transcend into my each movement in the phrases of day and night, this is how my life lights.. In full vigour do I say to the world that my girl teaches me, with her reflections of pure dazzling eyes.. I want to express on how her style originates the feeling of glory in my heart, as I get to live fully the way she does, and I move in my artistic approach, dreaming about her in the luster of my imaginations.. She likes to wear ethnic clothes, depicting the fashion of her tender age, a pure artist is my g

Roads, On the journeys my heart slips alone. Oh darling life, you wait, look beyond. Heart of fulfilled happiness and glow, Oh skid upon! Walk along and hold your might, in your emotions on the roll. Beyond sits your satisfaction, Oh dearest grace. Sits her eyes on the many fantasies she loves. To fulfill her broken passages, bring her your care in a rose. Flowers, oh daisies that strengthen and calligraph oh her face, only give her peace and warmth. Peace that no one can ever take, When her eyes are affectionate, So is her holy state.

Not everyone was meant to follow the same journey to step the ladder of success. There's no denial in saying that, a person who is willing; makes one's own path in life. There is no accuracy in the say song, that success comes from doing this or that. Because, as things come to us and the manner we respond to them, define where we are steading. So, there shouldn't be any guilt feeling, if we aren't like the others or doing the things which others are doing. If we like their work then yes, there's a lot to learn and give importance to. But, in no manner putting our energies low or wayward. Never follow them, but follow the passion and energy that they live by. “ A single thought can change your world, Which otherwise a lot many thoughts fail to change. Believe. Power livens.” “ Never to lose hope if others don't understand your point. Maybe, it owns to you; that you are to nurture it, for the ages to come by and learn from your very thought; t

Face goes pale as a ruthless sky, Eyes ask not cynosure but freedom to be. To walk as a loner, as any passerby, Impaint within self, the emotions of the sea. Yes, they say; his face loses its charm, They noticed how his joys had ceased to exist. Within himself he could feel the calm, When experiences of life had very much billed; Upon him, the roughness and the storm, Still, he had let life open to the window silt; To take in to the changes that would swarm, In his newer life, that at an earlier point spilled. Why couldn't he, well why couldn't? Let it be, to go away and not taunt him again. But, he couldn't let her be alone in his want, If anyone else couldn't be hers, was it needful of him, to be the same? No, he wasn't what the world may have been, For, to him; her smile was his only dream. What would be, oh what would be; When he was her only one lover, from the hea